Aches and Thanes
by sovngarded
Summary: Upon buying Vlindrel Hall in Markarth as a quick place to stash stolen goods, Rumirin is infuriated that a housecarl had been bestowed upon him without his consent. But perhaps meeting Argis wouldn't be so terrible. M!Altmer DB/ Argis the Bulwark
1. Chapter 1

Rumirin was, indeed, shaking in his boots.

His thin, long fingers pressed into the lean muscle of his upper arms as he shuddered while walking down the stairs of Understone Keep. Rain was falling around him and pooling on the stone, making one big miserable mess that matched that in his mind.

He'd meant to buy a house, damn it. A place close to Endon (his fence) and the Marketplace so he could sell off things he'd picked up here and there on his travels on this side of Skyrim. This house was _supposed_ to sit here, empty, so he could lock up valuables and leave them to collect dust until it was time to barter them; a place for him to rest in a real bed instead of those damned stone ones the local inn offered. Rumirin felt absolutely god damned stupid for thinking it would be that easy. No, there was always a hidden ordeal underneath every innocent seeming thing that happened to him. Without fail, something would go wrong.

He'd furnished the house a few days before and been allowed inside after it was done to check up on it. Pleased with the effort, he returned to the jarl to thank him.

He shouldn't have gone, because the next thing he knew he was being honored as Thane of Markarth and given a two-handed blade he didn't necessarily want (he'd always been a dagger and spell sort of man, thank you). His stomach flipped as the jarl continued on, giving him a housecarl. His huge green eyes had gone blank as his ears stopped picking up noise, one word buzzing around in his head like an angry bunch of bees. That word was _no_.

No, no no no NO.

He was _beyond_ pissed, spluttering, cheeks turning pink under his pale golden pallor. He'd been thanked and congratulated, his fury being misread as profuse thankfulness. Rumirin could have died as Yngvar the Singer slapped him on the back with a huge grin, knowing full well the Altmer absolutely did not want a housecarl. He could have strangled the Nord right then and there and not felt a hint of regret, even if he rotted in jail for it.

He could feel nausea build in his throat as the anger wore off and was quickly replaced with worry rolling in his stomach. He hadn't lived with anyone besides Lydia, his housecarl in Whiterun. He hadn't wanted her either, to be honest. Somehow they'd become friends after he'd asked her to hold his staff for a moment so he could rebuckle his left boot. With a deep sigh, she mumbled something he'd never forget, "I am sworn to carry your burdens."

He'd burst out laughing at that, and then her façade crumbled into a grin and she gave up her stony demeanor and treated him as an equal. He'd won her over on accident, and he wasn't exactly good at winning people over. At all.

But damn it, he was _Dovahkiin_, and he'd defeated Alduin (as far as he could tell). He'd been to the Nord heaven of Sovngarde and breathed in the coldly beautiful air and been allowed to look into the swirling sky and have his entire heart drop in absolute wonder. He'd climbed through the ranks of the Stormcloaks despite his obvious racial differences and become Ulfric's Stormblade though strenuous effort and the Nord had developed a soft spot for him even though he was Altmer. And after that ordeal was done, he'd become the master of the Thieves Guild, for crying out loud. He could do anything, and damn it if he couldn't handle living with a housecarl again.

And, by the gods, if he _couldn't_ handle it, Rumirin would drive the housecarl out _himself_ with any means at his disposal.

Marching up the steps to his new home with a grimly determined expression, he pulled the key from one of the pouches on his dark leather jerkin and, with slightly shaking hands, attempted to unlock the latch to Vlindrel Hall. He failed numerous times even though his usually steady demeanor allowed him to pick a lock in less than a few seconds.

Fuck, he was nervous. He hadn't been this nervous since the Legion had his neck stretched across a block and was about to cleave it from his shoulders.

He took a deep breath and heard his teeth clatter, sending another flash of heat to his high cheekbones. Holding his fingers steady with his other hand, he felt slightly humiliated as he finally was able to open the door. Shaking his head and flexing his jaw, he pushed back his leather hood and shoved the door open, keeping his face impassive as he stepped into the dry warmth of the hall.

He wasn't greeted at the door like Lydia had done upon is first arrival at Breezehome. He stopped on the first steps in the front entrance awkwardly, straining his ears for any sort of sound within the home.

Nothing; maybe the housecarl wasn't here yet. The weather was bad, and he'd only stopped by a shop on the way home to buy mead to cure his bad attitude before heading over here. Rumirin shucked off his knapsack and gripped it by the straps, carrying himself through the front room and past the set table there. Empty. He breathed a large sigh of relief and stepped through the doorway, freezing as he entered.

His heartbeat ran blood into the tips of his ears, and he raised a hand to his long, messy brown hair as his eyes adjusted to the flickering light of the hearth in the center of the room.

The table was freshly set, and a huge Nord had his back turned to the door, leaning over the heat as he stirred something in the cooking pot hanging above the flames. He was one of the biggest men Rumirin had ever laid eyes on, with muscles in his arms clearly defined even with fur covering his shoulders. He was blonde, had a commanding presence, and absolutely huge hands with thick, long fingers. The Altmer's knees went weak and his mouth dried at the sight.

_Nice… ass._

He prayed to Talos he hadn't just said that out loud. The Nord didn't turn around, so he nodded to himself and gently began to creep to the table. He placed his knapsack down and pulled out the chair softly as he could, perching on it and unbuttoning his pack to pull out the three bottles of Black-Briar Reserve he'd previously thought to drown his sorrows with.

He jumped and gave a horridly pathetic squeak as a silver bowl full of the most deliciously hot stew he'd ever smelled was placed in front of him. Looking up, he caught the gaze of his housecarl; his breath hitching in his throat as the half-blind man smiled down at him.

"My thane," he nodded politely, stepping backwards to place his own food at the other side of the table, sitting down and tucking into the stew without another word. Rumirin's heart stopped very suddenly and he felt weak and shaky even though the Nord paid him hardly any mind. He wrenched his jaw shut in complete embarrassment, not even realizing it had been propped open. Shit, how long had he been slack jawed like that? He picked up his spoon and dug in, his mouth watering as his chest warmed from the venison stew. Damn, the Nord had cooked for him and won his heart in that fluid movement; it had only been a matter of moments after he'd walked in the door. Lydia could suck it.

_And he was fucking handsome._

The Altmer's face burned as he slid a bottle of mead over to the man, who grinned in thanks and uncorked it with his teeth, taking a swallow. Rumirin could only watch in appreciation as the Nord's throat muscles worked. _Shit._

He placed the blue bottle down in front of him and nodded toward the struck young elf. "I'm Argis. It's good to meet you, my thane."

His voice was so deep and gravely that it sent the fine hairs on Rumirin's arms on end.

"Y-you can call me Rumirin, i-if you want. Thank you for cooking; it's delicious…"

He trailed off. Fuck, he was stuttering like a schoolgirl.

Argis's mouth curled into a damned smirk that worked to dig deep claws into Rumirin's racing heart. Gods.

"Alright then, Rumirin. And it's no problem."

He tried desperately to right himself, pressing his cold hands to his hot cheeks as Argis watched him curiously. His thoughts ate at his mind, drowning him in throes of pressure and relief. He took the neck of his mead bottle in his hands and tried forcing the cork out. Argis held out a thick hand after the Altmer failed miserably, glaring at the infernal contraption, and Rumirin handed it to him hesitantly.

Argis lifted it to his lips, gripping the cork between his teeth and pulled it away with ease. He handed it back to the elf, pulling it out with his free hand. Rumirin took it and lifted it to his lips to take a deep drink, inwardly groaning as his housecarl flashed a grin at him that made his knees weak.

Maybe living in Markarth wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

_(AN: Whew, finally got this out of my system! This'll probably be only a few chapters long, and I hope I can give Argis the love he deserves with this. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter.)  
_


	2. Chapter 2

Rumirin had intended to spend the day ruffling around the houses of Markarth and looting them for all they were worth. The key word there being _intended_.

He rose early the next morning just as the sun bit the horizon. He dressed himself quietly and quickly, slipping though the darkness of the unlit house, past the pass-through that lead to the Nord's room. He swiped a crusted bit of bread, holding the rind between his lips as he eased his knapsack up around skinny shoulders, tightening the straps as best he could with one hand; the other occupied with clasping the leather of his jerkin around his golden throat.

After the task was complete, he grabbed the handle of the first of his twin daggers and strapped them to the side of his calf, fingers working quickly on the lacing and sheath, tightening it to his leg. Now, where was the other one? He could have sworn he'd left it here, on the table… And he didn't know Argis well, but he was fairly sure the Nord hadn't moved it aside or taken it.

Utterly confused, the Altmer slunk along, his bright eyes searching the ground and stepping gingerly across the stonework floor. He stepped into the kitchen, head down, shoulders slumped, a hand hold his hair behind his shoulder as half still fell in his face. Where was the damned thing?

He was knocked backwards as he hit something very solid, and in his confusion and daze as he righted himself by flailing his arms behind him, he thought he'd somehow run into a wall.

The clearing of a throat in front of him proved him dead wrong, and heat flooded to the Altmer's face as he stepped backwards in a panic. With that quick movement, his balance was thrown too off-center to right himself. The Altmer fell onto his rump with a feminine gasp of rushing air falling front parted lips. He gritted his teeth and tilted his chin forward, sucking in a harsh breath to apologize.

"Oh, gods, I'm sorry Argis. I didn't see you there."

Rumirin jerked his head up and felt his jaw loosen at the fucking glorious sight in front of him. Argis had a hand running through his thick blonde hair, his muscled arm tense as he stared down at the elf in front of him. Shirtless, Argis was basically a god; made of flat, tones planes and hard angles, clad in simple black cotton pants tied loosely around beautifully formed hipbones. His abdominal muscles faded just below his navel, trimming into a tight V-shape and disappearing into a dip he wish he could see. On both sides of the man's stomach, twin red tattoos ran downwards, past the hem of those damned black pants, twisting alongside that V-shape… Rumirin could almost feel himself start to drool.

This was _torture_ to see so early in the morning; surely this was some sort of cruel and unusual punishment sent from Dibella for tearing apart her temple after a night of drinking with Sanguine? Argis probably wasn't even real or some shit like that. Rumirin's pulse quickened in his neck, and he swallowed after a few painfully awkward moments, realizing Argis was smiling with a hint of mischievousness lighting across his features. The Nord cocked a brow questioningly.

"What're you looking for?"

Rumirin sputtered, face pinking under his skin. "I- I didn't mean to stare—sorry! You're just really…"

Argis chuckled, closing his eyes briefly and shaking his mane of blonde hair. "I meant on the floor."

Realization dawned in the Altmer's mind, and he wanted to summon Dremora Markynaz to just end his life then and there as embarrassment shone of his thin face. He pressed his cold palms to his heated cheeks, trying futilely to calm himself, and groaned as Argis grinned lopsidedly down at him.

The Nord offered a hand, and Rumirin took it hesitantly after looking it over for a few moments.

"I don't bite, my Thane."

The brunette giggled nervously, the image of Argis sinking his teeth into Rumirin's neck as he moaned, the Nord bruising him with steady fingers as he had his terrible way with the elf surfacing in Rumirin's mind's eye at the words.

"I don't believe that," he muttered, and he could have sworn Argis's mouth popped open at that. He tugged the Altmer up, and Rumirin eased back onto his feet, solid on the ground once again.

"Thanks. And I'm uh, looking for the match to this; the ebony pair." He gestured to the dagger strapped to his leg, and Argis nodded slowly, jerking his head to the table but the unlit fire.

"You left it on the table last night. Wasn't sure if you wanted it moved, so I didn't." The Nord looked over the smaller man, and Rumirin could almost feel himself shrink during the evaluation. "You goin' somewhere?"

The Altmer hesitated, raising a hand to the back of his neck in embarrassment, lying quickly. "Ah, yeah. There's a cave I wanted to pick through… I wasn't sure if you, um, did that sort of thing. So I was gonna let you sleep in."

The Nord scoffed. "I'll be ready in five minutes."

Rumirin's bright eyes studied Argis's, looking for any sort of hint that he'd been joking. The elf found none, and he caught Argis grinning.

"Argis!" the Altmer cried out in slightly amused frustration and the Nord turned on his heel to go back to his room. He could hear the clink of metal and a slight shuffle, and the elf sighed dramatically. "It's not top priority and I swear I'll be fine; nothing dangerous about it!"

He felt blood rush to the tips of his long ears as the Nord didn't respond.

"I don't need to go," he squeaked, his voice sounding more pleading than he'd intended. At once, the sound stopped, and Argis came out into the main room with a simple white shirt on, grinning. Damn it, he'd been tricked. He shucked off his sheathed knife, cursing wildly to whatever gods would listen, and he went back to his room as Argis knelt to light the fire. No looting that abandoned house today. He hoped to gods he wasn't suddenly gaining a conscience—that could possibly be detrimental at this point in his life.

He dropped his leathers and tore off his jerkin, changing into what seemed to be simple but warm miner's clothes, slipping on a pair of fur lines boots to trudge around in as he pouted. The fire was roaring and he could feel its heat spreading across the room as Argis stoked the flames.

He turned his head as Rumirin entered the room, his gaze catching on the hollow of his neck, a questioning look on his face. The Altmer sucked in a breath, his heart sticking in his throat. What in Oblivion was Argis so damned fixated on? He touched his fingertips to his throat, heat rushing to his face as he realized his Amulet of Mara was very much prominent around his bared neck. Usually the high collar of his thieves' armor covered it, but now…

"An Amulet of Mara?" Argis smirked, turning back to his work. "You're looking for marriage, then."

"Yeah, I am actually. I figure… life's too short to be alone, you know? Might as well get out there, find a nice girl or something…" He shook himself out of his daze and walked into the next room to grip the edge of the table and steady his muscles for a moment, trying to breath. He should have taken the damned thing off, but he'd gotten so used to the weight and feeling of it hung around his neck that he barely noticed it on his person anymore. Why did he _say_ that? Was he even interested in girls? His entire life of his unquestioned and simply assumed sexuality began to crash around his head with uncertainty.

He went to a shelf; rustling around until the side his hand hit the familiar texture of cheesecloth. Brushing aside the other food items, he took the bundle into the other room, plucking away the twine and giving Argis a guilty grin as a large multitude apple dumplings spilled out from the covering. Rumirin sat down at the table, a slight blush on his cheeks.

"My weakness," he admitted, splitting the spoils half and half onto two separate plates, pushing one towards where Argis stood.

The Nord took one off the plate, looking it over, and took a bite before sitting down onto the blue rug in front of the fire.

"It's good; but I like sweetrolls."

The Altmer rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "You damned Nords and your sweetrolls."

"You damned Altmer and your magical skinny asses."

Rumirin stared down at him front his chair and burst out laughing after a few moments as the Nord looked on seriously, thoughtfully chewing on the pastry. Rumirin caught a smile working across Argis's face as the moments ticked on.

Days went on; and they cleared a few caves together while the Altmer looted them in half-secret. He still hid the fact that he was Dragonborn and also a master thief from the Nord, and his heart ached a bit with the weight of the secret. Coming clean could come later, right?

The first time they'd slain a dragon, Rumirin was lucky he'd been able to run far away enough with the Nord as to not envelop the soul of the beast. The soft, curling light invading his body surely would have spoken volumes about who he really was, and Argis didn't need to know that yet.

And he got the feeling Argis was starting to like him, if only a little bit. Small, stolen glances when he thought the elf didn't notice, a slight smile on his face when the Altmer gave him instructions while lock picking a chest. He could get used to it.

* * *

The thing that bothered Argis the most about Rumirin was the blatant disregard for his comfort and the secrets he kept from him. In all honesty, it would have been nice for the little elf to occasionally ask, _"how does running all the way home sound to you?"_ or _"is it alright if I summon Dremora in for a second? I can't reach that thing on the top shelf" _or perhaps even, _"do you mind if I walk around with only pants on half the time?"_

It wasn't as if he… minded the last part, though. The lank, lean Altmer was definitely a sight for his tired eyes. And after a day of swinging around a sword next to next to him as he danced with knives flying, both breathing heavily, muscles straining and teeth gritting under clenched jaws, there was honestly little he liked more than to step through the door of Vlindrel Hall only to have Rumirin unbuckle the straps of his dark leather armor and let it fall straight to the ground in front of him as Argis's fingers twitched and ached to touch the exposed skin of the Altmer's back. Rumirin would let down his brown hair from its loose braid, letting it fall to the beginning of his shoulder blades as he shook it out and walked straight to his room, kicking off his boots and tossing his twin set of knives haphazardly on the floor. Rumirin walked to the fire without looking back at Argis as the Nord stood there like a starved wolf with a slab of bloody meat just out of reach.

Argis gathered Rumirin's things and put them in their respectful places. He always did; quietly and respectfully helping his thane as best he could in all the circumstances the elf threw at him. Including walking around in only leathers Argis could so easily slip his fingertips into and tug off bony hips. Everything was tempting.

The Nord heard the hearth in the other room crackle to life in the wake of the flames at the Altmer's skilled fingertips. Pots were shuffled, and the elf cursed briefly before Argis heard a knife chopping quickly up food against wood. He entered the room to see his thane carving the bone out of a cut of venison. To his surprise, Rumirin smiled up at him as he walked in, his brilliantly sharp green eyes sending heat to Argis's face.

"Hungry?"

The question caught him slightly off-guard; Rumirin never cooked (first off), and he had never before displayed any sort of care true for him, besides the flukes that happened very rarely. And yet here he was, offering Argis food after they'd killed a dragon. The blonde was still trembling with adrenaline, but the elf in front of him was as casual as a blacksmith shaping metal. Rumirin's head again tilted down to make quick work of the bones in the meat under his slender fingers.

Like it was no big deal. It was, wasn't it? They'd killed a gods damned _dragon_. If that wasn't exciting, he didn't know what was.

And yet Argis swallowed and nodded quickly. "Yes, my thane. Thank you."

Rumirin's shining eyes went to his once more, teasing and brighter than he'd ever seen them. It sent aches to his heart.

"Will you ever call me by name?"

Argis paused, searching the brunette's face as a smile tugged his lips. By the Nines, he was pretty; even with dirt smeared across his cheek and a bit of leaf clinging to his hair.

"Probably not."

Rumirin pursed his lips playfully, biting back the smile arising on his mouth. "Alright, my housecarl."

"Now that just sounds awkward."

Rumirin laughed before turning on his heel, tossing ingredients into the iron pot lifted above the fire. Taking the spoon from his left hand, he stirred thoughtfully before shrugging.

"Oh, you have _no _idea… Do you even know my name, Argis?"

The Altmer was teasing him, and Argis wondered if this banter was his way of flirting. Either way, the blonde decided to play along, pulling out the wooden chair to the side of the table near the cook.

"No. Care to remind me?"

Rumirin whirled around towards him, face red under his golden pallor and jaw dropped open. "You really don't know my name?"

Rumirin looked positively heartbroken, and Argis couldn't help but burst out laughing at his expression. The elf stomped to him, smacking his arm hard with an open fist until he could feel it begin to smart.

"You ass, I thought you were serious!"

He rubbed his forehead with a large hand, still snickering.

"No, Rumirin, I was only joking with you."

"…Say it again."

He turned his face to Rumirin, Argis's eyebrows rising as the Altmer stared at him expectantly, firelight dancing on his skin as his green eyes widened.

"What?"

"Please?"

"Why?"

"I like how you say it."

Argis smirked, not believing him in the least. "Really."

The Altmer threw his hands into the air, sighing impatiently. "Oh, forget it. You're the worst."

He turned away from the Nord, going back to cooking as Argis was left there to wonder how exactly he could use this to his advantage. Rumirin tapped the spoon to the side of the kettle, tasting a bit of the soup before making a small sound of approval and pinching a bit of salt in from a bowl on the lip of the hearth.

"My thane?"

The spoon clattered into the pot as the elf lost composure, anger licking at his tone. "Damn it, Argis, call me Rumirin!"

He grinned, pressing on. "My thane, I have a suggestion."

The brunette whirled around, teeth gritted. "And what might that be?"

"Cook more often and I'll call you by name as you wish."

The Altmer's green eyes drifted to the side of the room, rolling the deal over in his head carefully. Argis lifted a flagon of mead to his lips and drank shallowly from it as the Dragonborn thought.

"How about something simpler?"

"Hmm?"

Rumirin didn't dare look at his housecarl, turning back to the hearth, but smiled, pressing his lips together in a thin line. He was going to take a huge leap and possibly crush his heart doing it, but it was a risk he needed to take.

"A kiss for my name?"

Argis nearly coughed up his mead at the suggestion; barely avoiding doing so by swallowing as quickly as he could. Surely he'd misheard his thane; his cruel ears playing tricks on him?

"What was that?"

"A kiss for my name. Simple, easy." Rumirin put a hand to his hip, still turned away from Argis. "I see how you look at me when you think I don't notice, Argis the Bulwark."

"Thought you were gonna 'find a nice girl' to settle down with."

The reminded secretly pained Rumirin, sending a flood of embarrassment to his mind. _Fuck, why _did_ I say that?!_

Yet on the outside, the Altmer kept a straight face and shrugged. "It was just a suggestion, you don't have to take it if you don't want to. I understand."

Before he could allow himself to mull over the dangers this proposition carried with it, before his face even had time to redden, Argis found words falling from his lips before he fully processed them.

"You have a deal."

Rumirin ghosted over to him within a second's time. Hovering over him as he stared up at the elf from his chair, Rumirin leaned to him, tucking his own hair behind a pointed ear.

"Thank you," the elf murmured before closing his lips onto Argis's as sweetly and innocently as he could muster.

Argis couldn't shake the shock that went through him for a few moments. Then his hands went to Rumirin's cheeks, bringing his thin face down as the elf smiled against Argis's testing mouth. The housecarl swore he heard his name slip from the Altmer's lips, and he parted his mouth to be rewarded with the slick of his thane's wet muscle against his tongue. Argis was only partially aware of Rumirin's legs sliding closer, parting the Nord's knees as he pressed his hands to his chest. Argis tilted the elf's head, cupping his chin in his large hand to allow better access for himself.

"_Argis_."

He hadn't imagined it that time. Rumirin's breathy voice sent arousal down his spine, and he cursed himself for being so easily swayed by the thin man toying with him.

"Rumirin."

The elf bit down hard on Argis's lower lip, and teeth crashed against each other's, not _entirely_ unpleasantly. The sudden violence Argis returned the gesture with ripped a moan from the depth of Rumirin's chest, sending a little appreciative and invisible shiver up the Nord's spine. The elf jumped when two hands slid to his back and down further to slide into his leathers and grip his ass. Rumirin groaned as his heart slammed against his chest, and he gripped the collar of the Blade armor he'd stolen for Argis to wear. Damn did he look good in it, and it had convenient handles as well.

The elf pulled away long enough for Argis to whisper his name between parted, wet lips, and Rumirin's jaw tightened as he pulled away, trying to right his spinning mind. His pulse was visible in his straining neck, and Argis's eyes opened slowly to survey the damage. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized the Altmer was still standing there, eyes closed as he tried to breathe.

_What the fuck have I just done?_

The thought echoed through both of their heads, and the Altmer felt himself start to step backwards, jaw clenched, shaking in nervousness. Argis caught him easily, standing and wrapping a hand around the younger's waist, fingertips sinking into the elf's skin. Rumirin felt a moan rise in his chest, and he brought his face up to be met with Argis's lips once more. The Nord's other hand went to his hair, lacing his fingers to kiss him heatedly, the action becoming less desperate and more loving as it dragged on.

Rumirin could feel his heart hammering, and he placed a thin hand on the center of the Nord's chest plate, softening completely in the embrace.

_Yep, I'm definitely gay._


	3. Chapter 3

The days were filled with broken shudders against shells of ears, warm fingers sliding across exposed skin, gentle kisses that turned more desperate and violent as seconds ticked into minutes. The image of Argis biting into his skin still constantly surfaced in his mind and threaten to bubble from his lips while his mind did its best to clamp his mouth shut. He craved that sweet pain, but silently and in secret.

Argis never followed him to bed, no matter how tempting he tried to make himself. If Argis was one of those "wait until marriage" types, Rumirin was sure he'd actually die of neglected arousal. He knew the Nord wasn't immune to his actions, however. The little breathy moans that the Altmer caught in the middle of the night were proof of that. He would clasp a hand over his mouth and strain himself to listen, trying desperately to control his breathing while he ached from the sounds. He would always shudder when he heard that hiss between clenched teeth that ended the noises, and then he was left with his own problem to deal with shortly after the Nord's completion. Half the time he was tempted to walk into his housecarl's room and take care of the problem himself. But he wasn't that bold; no. He'd gained a healthy amount of shyness upon his realization that he was falling for Argis, one that he hadn't had while in the Thieves Guild with women at his feet.

This was drastically, somehow, different. It made him a bit uncomfortable.

It was the fourth of Rain's Hand when Rumirin finally accepted that he'd fallen in love with Argis. He'd been in the market looking for sweets when it happened, and as he paid for his goods, he realized he'd just bought a multitude of sweetrolls for the Nord without thinking twice about it. He stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned to glance over at the rising sun, confusion spreading cross his slight and thin features.

_Oh dear gods._

He practically dragged himself up the stone steps, smiling wearily and waving to the market stall keeps that greeted him as he walked on. His stomach turned and he pushed open the door without a sound and stepped inside, striding over to the table in the between-room. He dropped his basket on the surface and sat down, riffling through the sweets and pulling out a long taffy treat with a grin.

He was spoiling himself, yes. He probably shouldn't be eating so badly. However, it wasn't every day the Dragonborn of Nordic legend turned twenty-three. He munched on his spoils, eyes shifting to the pass-through of Argis's room as he saw a blonde head peek out from the doorway.

"My thane."

"Argis, c'mere. I got something for you."

He chewed on the treat thoughtfully, plunging his hand into the basket and pulling out a small wrapping of cheesecloth.

"And I have a secret to tell you. But you have to be good."

The Nord rolled his eyes, and Rumirin heard him stand and push his chair back under his desk.

"I'm no dog; of course I'll be good." The grin on his face suggested otherwise, but the Altmer smiled innocently, crooking a finger to call him closer to his face.

Argis bent down to Rumirin's lips and was rewarded with a tongue laving across his ear, bringing shudders up his spine.

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

Argis scoffed but straightened up and did as he was told without question. The little elf placed something into his palms, and he felt weight shift cloth as twine was untied from the little package.

"Okay, open them now."

Argis opened his good eye and laughed, opening both to smile down at the elf. He leaned down to kiss the younger on the lips before pulling back all too soon to take a bite of the offered sweetroll.

"Thank you, now what's the secret?"

"You can't tell anyone."

The elf reached into the basket again to pull out a boiled crème treat to bite on, staring up at Argis expectantly.

"You're makin' me nervous…" Argis began hesitantly as the elf's green eyes grew wider, more mischievous with every passing moment.

Rumirin took the food out of his mouth with a loud sucking sound that made the Nord's knees shake. "It's my birthday today."

The blonde froze, raising a brow in confusion. "Why didn't you tell me before? I could have done something before you got home…"

"I um," the elf blushed darkly, taking a deep and shaky breath. "I didn't want you to. I just wanna, you know, spend the day with you." He couldn't look up, couldn't meet Argis's eyes. His chest was tight, his words becoming more hushed with every syllable he forced out.

Argis shrugged and smiled at the simple request. "Alright."

"…In my bed."

Silence. The elf didn't dare lift his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Just to hold me if you want. Nothing else. I get it if you don't want to… y'know."

His hands were trembling in his lap, and he heaved a shaky sigh when he was met with thick, uncomfortable quiet. Argis was shifting quietly in front of him.

_For the love of Mara, gods strike me dead._

"I'm being stupid." His heart beating in his ears crashed timpani loud and he could barely hear himself speak over the sound of his pulse. "I'm sorry."

He lifted his face to catch sight of emptiness in front of him, and the sight hit him like a sack of stones, knocking the wind out of his willowy frame. He bit his lips hard in disappointment only to feel his chair be pulled back. Completely shocked, he stood up out of alarm and was promptly scooped into strong arms.

"Bed?"

Rumirin's smile couldn't have been bigger, and he hid it in the crook of Argis's neck as he reddened with embarrassment.

"Please."

"The table could be fun, maybe against the wall?"

"Um." Rumirin dug the tips of his fingers into the coarse fabric of Argis's simple shirt and whined softly in anticipated arousal. The Nord carried him easily, like a sack of flour, to the threshold of his room. "Maybe later," he muttered heatedly against the man's warm neck.

He was dropped rather unceremoniously onto the green coverlet; back-down as he let out a whelp of surprise. Rumirin could feel the bed dip slightly as Argis knelt onto it, pulling himself up to hover over the elf. Leaning forward on his elbows, Rumirin kissed the Nord, leading him with his mouth to the center of the bed. Pulling away with a soft sound, the elf sat with his back against the headboard and stone wall. The Nord crawled after him, sending a blush to the Altmer's face as Argis knelt just beneath his feet. A hand went to the lacings of his boots, and Rumirin felt his face burn.

"Argis, I can…"

The Nord shot his face up as he loosened the strings and tugged it off, moving on to the other foot and tossing the boots aside.

"I can undress myself."

It seemed… demeaning for the warrior to be knelt in front of Rumirin, stripping the elf of his clothing piece by piece. The thought was swept out of his head when Argis swiftly undid the cords of his leather pants and began to tug them down. The Altmer felt the breath leave his body, and Argis dipped his head down and kissed the flesh of his bare thigh, so close to his heat that it made Rumirin jolt and groan.

Argis gave him an amused look and pulled the leathers down further, Rumirin arching his back to allow the Nord to pull them off completely. Heavy hands pulled at the hem of his cotton shirt and Rumirin went frantically to yank it off over his head, but Argis stopped him, sliding it calmly off his body to reveal the taut gold flesh underneath.

Rumirin hissed involuntarily and was quieted with Argis's lips on his; then trailing hot half-kisses down the side of the Altmer's neck as he moaned shamelessly and bucked his hips without thinking.

"Wow," the Nord breathed into his ear, nibbling on the lobe before releasing it and laving his tongue along the shell. Rumirin whimpered, finally fisting his hands into the bed sheets. His arousal was already beginning to ache just from the simple kisses and touches on his bare skin. If Argis could do this to him by just undressing him… well, Rumirin couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

Impatiently, he began to tug on Argis's tunic, easing the straps before having his hand pushed away. Rumirin almost looked annoyed, and the Nord couldn't help but laugh as he yanked down the man's small clothes and was rewarded with a yelp.

The elf moved to cover himself, completely torn between his shame and lust. Argis forced his legs apart with a knee and pressed both of his hands into the mattress, preventing him from moving.

He gave him a stare, Rumirin able to return with little more than a blushed face and pleading eyes. Confident he'd placated the man (for now), Argis dipped his head down and licked the head of Rumirin's weeping arousal just once with the entire flat of his tongue. He was vaguely aware of the Altmer groaning throatily and he felt the veins in his hands tense under his palms. Argis laced his fingers into the elf's and took him into his mouth, toying his tongue on the bottom side of the mer's cock. Rumirin could feel his thighs tremble with effort, trying to stop himself from bucking up into the wet heat.

Finally after what seemed like years of delicious torture, Argis began to suck, hollowing his cheeks around Rumirin's dick. The elf wrenched his hand out from under the Nord's grip to press it against his open mouth, muffling his cries as Argis found he wanted more of them. Gold and white eyes shifted to meet the Altmer's green gaze, and Argis moaned softly around him as he saw the elf staring down at him, his expression completely clouded by lust as he bit the knuckle of his first finger. He couldn't even look at the elf without being reminded of the ache against his leg.

Argis turned the tables constantly, each time just as Rumirin felt he could control himself. Within a few moments the elf threw his head back and groaned, warning Argis only to have the Nord pull his hips forward at the last moment, swallowing him completely and leave the Altmer to buck and heatedly moan as he came hard.

Argis pulled away, licking the wet from his lips away. Rumirin couldn't be bothered to stop the whimper that rose from his throat as he watched him. He forced himself to sit up farther, bending down to try and kiss the Nord, who leaved forward and pressed him down on the bed again.

"You're really over-dressed," Rumirin pointed out breathily, still trying to steady himself, wrapping his arms around Argis's shoulders and pressing kisses to the man's bared throat. "You should fix that."

"That must be terrible for you," Argis countered, raising an eyebrow and pressing his hips to the Altmer's thigh, wrenching a half-strangled moan from him.

Rumirin pushed him off with what little strength he still held, unlacing the top of the Nord's shirt with fluttering fingers as his heart began to pound in his ears again. He eventually pulled it off and was rewarded with planes of muscle and the light hair dusting Argis's broad chest. Those twin red tattoos mocked him, dipping down into the line of the Nord's pants, beyond his vision.

The elf ran his hands downwards, tracing the muscles of Argis's torso, relishing in the way the Nord's breath hitched, marveling at the reactions Rumirin was pulling out of him just with his palms.

"I…" Rumirin cleared his throat uselessly, swallowing his hesitation. "I wanna see how far down those tattoos go."

A hot tongue slid across his neck, pulling an embarrassingly throaty moan from the Altmer, and he heard the buckle of a belt being undone, his nerves pulling at his muscles and sending him to shake. He moved away from Argis, long enough for the Nord to tug his pants off his hips. Those gods damned tattoos slide down even further than that. Rumirin moved forward, hissing a breath through his teeth as he saw Argis straining through his small clothes. He pulled them down, blush covering his face immediately as he realized the tattoos stopped just above the top of his thigh. Raising his face to Argis, he felt his cheeks get hotter when Argis grinned down at him.

"Pretty damned far."

"Lucky paint scratcher," Rumirin muttered. "I'm a bit jealous."

The jealousy faded when Argis tanged a hand through his brown hair and pulled him forward, kissing him deeply and heatedly. Drawing the Nord's smallclothes down, he took his cock in hand and began to work it slowly, pulling a moan from Argis as he ate the sound from his mouth. He could only concentrate on the little breathy pants the Nord made when he pulled away to breathe, and Rumirin finally opened his eyes long enough to see Argis throw his head back and groan, finally allowing his hips to buck forward into the Altmer's hand. Every muscle in his body strained beautifully, and Rumirin was taken aback by it for a few moments. He ran his thumb along the head, smearing the stain of pre-cum across the skin, sending Argis to grit his teeth and fist his hands into the sheets of the bed.

"Rumirin, I'm going to come."

It was a fair enough warning, but the Altmer found himself dipping his head down, laving his tongue across Argis's length without fully processing what in Oblivion he was doing. He began to suck, bobbing his head in the man's lap as Argis finally swore Rumirin's name, sending the ghost of a smile to the Altmer's face.

Argis came with a groan, leaving Rumirin to swallow what he could with a slight grimace and a hint of self-satisfaction. He could feel arousal once again working down his spine and the moan, and he leaned back, falling onto the bed sheets, licking his lips. After a few moments, Argis joined him, falling into place beside him on the huge mattress. The Altmer moved to kiss him, pressing his open mouth against Argis's with a hint of desperation. The Nord returned the gesture with a small bit of violence, nipping the elf's lower lip and holding it between his teeth for a moment while Rumirin shook with heat.

Taking notice, Argis took the Altmer's aching cock into his hand, stroking him once again until he was teetering on the edge of a shuddering orgasm. The Nord pressed his face into the crook of Rumirin's warm neck, lapping at the golden skin until it felt pleasantly raw. Heat flooded to Rumirin's face as he realized how easily the Nord got him riled up, and he tried to hold out his climax for just a bit longer…

Teeth latched on to his throat, pressing down with not even a hint of hesitation. That little bit of brutality was what Rumirin had craved for longer than he'd cared to admit. He lost himself in pleasure, moaning like a common whore, spilling onto Argis's hand and his own stomach as the Nord's tongue soothed red flesh.

He caught his breath, shivering and shimmering with comfortable haze as Argis drew the bed sheets over them, taking Rumirin in thick arms and entrapping him in his embrace. The Altmer didn't mind.

"This was a good birthday."

He heard Argis chuckle under his breath, and the outline of a smile pressed into his neck.

"The day's not over yet."

* * *

_(A/N: Eeek! Thank you all so much for the reviews, favs, and follows. There will be one chapter after this one, and then it's complete! Hope you've enjoyed so far!)_


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